Color Me Pretty

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    “Well,” she says as the bell chimes again and a girl steps through the door, tentatively, afraid. Her eyes sparkle with hope and her hands shake. She's at least a size eight. She sees me looking and scoops a handful of shimmery, black hair behind her ear. She looks nothing like me yet at the same time looks exactly like me. I can see how bad she wants this, so I just smile and hope that Lianna will give her the same chance she gave me. “When you do decide,” she stands up and leaves her coffee behind, pulling a business card out of a hidden pocket and handing it to me. I actually have to search before I can see anything at all. At first the card appears blank. But when I flip it over, I can see her name and two phone numbers in pale, cream writing. When I tilt the card enough, I can see the word cell faintly but legibly. These are personal numbers. I try not to gape. “Let me know, okay?”
    And then Lianna walks away and leaves me with fresh tears rolling down my stubborn cheeks.

Three more weeks pass, but I don't call Lianna Cheung. I can't yet. I have to make everything else right first, and that means I have to talk to the people who have been there for me always, find out why they're avoiding me and make things right. I had thought they would come to me, but it never occurred to me that they were waiting for me to come to them. It's Kylie who makes this suggestion as she sits on Emmett's couch and finishes off a plate of cajun chicken and dirty rice, courtesy of yours truly.
    I sit across from her on the love seat with my legs in Emmett's lap and my fork halfway to my mouth. Every bite is a struggle, but it gets easier. One day, I imagine that it won't hurt at all. My goal is to be able to enjoy a massive slice of cake at Emmett's and my wedding. A smile curls the edges of my lips and fades just as quickly at Kylie's words.
    “What have you got to lose?” I want to say everything, but that's not true. I have myself now, and I have Emmett. But I also don't want to lose my family. If I keep avoiding them, I can always pretend there'll be a reconciliation. If I talk to them and they decide they want nothing to do with me … I don't know what I'll do. Some part of me realizes that I'm being irrational, that the problems we have stem from them loving me so much they can't see straight, that they'd never abandon me. I also know they see Emmett as a threat. It's kind of a toss up. The one thing I do know is that no matter what, Emmett stays.
    “I think that I've waited so long to call that it's now in that awkward, weird stage, you know?” I don't add that I was counting on them to be strong for me, to help me through this. Looks like I'm going to be the one helping them. I stare at my phone and try to talk myself into just doing it, getting it over with. But I can't. As soon as my fingers brush the screen, I get angry, and I don't want to be angry. I push my phone off onto the area rug where it bounces once and falls still. “I'm not ready yet,” I say.
    “Just remember that if you wait too long, if you wait until you truly think it's time, it might be too late.” Kylie focuses her energy on polishing off her food and tells us she has to go. Apparently, she's meeting with some counselors at the local university tomorrow, trying to map out a game plan. I still haven't decided what I'm going to do.
    “I don't even know what to say anymore,” I tell Emmett as he closes the door and turns around, leaning back against it and watching the fire crackle and hiss behind me. “I really thought they'd be over here day in and day out, pounding on the door. And instead, I get nothing, not even a phone call.” I look down at my hands, and they don't seem so spindly anymore, and my nails are only blue because I've painted them that way. I want my family to see, but I also don't want them to think I'm desperate. It's a tough call to make.
    “Invite them to the fashion show,” Emmett says, referring to the invitation we got in the mail last week. It was from Lianna Cheung herself, inviting us to a show next month. She sent it along with several guest tickets, more than I could possibly ever use. I think she was trying to make a point though I'm not quite sure what it is. All I know is that I'm going to be there, even if it's only in the audience, even if I have to watch other girls walking my dream. I'm living a different one here with Emmett anyway, sleeping next to him at night, waking up to him in the